je me eftime beureux que je fuis tombé entre les mains d'un Chevalier, je penfe, le plus brave, valiant, & tres eftimé Segnieur d'Angleterre.

Pift. Expound unto me, boy.

Boy. He gives you upon his knees a thousand thanks, and efteems himself happy, that he hath fall'n into the hands of one as he thinks the most brave, valorous, and thriceworthy Signieur of England.

Pift. As I fuck blood, I will fome mercy fhew. Follow me, cur.

Boy. Suivez le grand capitain. [Ex. Pift. and Fr. Sol. I did never know fo full a voice iffue from fo empty a heart; but the fong is true, The empty vessel makes the greatest found. Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i' th' old play; every one may pare his mails with a wooden dagger: yet they are both hang'd, and fo would this be if he durft fteal any thing advent'rously: I muft stay with the lacqueys with the luggage of our camp ; the French might have a good prey of us if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boys. [Exit. SCENE X. Another part of the Field of Battle. Enter Conftable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin and Rambures. Con. O Diable!

Orl. O Segnieur! le jour eft perdu, tout eft perdu. Dau. Mort de ma vie, all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame

Sits mocking in our plumes.

O mefcbante fortune! do not run away.

Con. Why, all our ranks are broke.

[A fhort alarm.

Dau. O perdurable shame, let's ftab our felves:
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for ?
Orl. Is this the King we fent to for his ransom?
Bour. Shame and eternal fhame, nothing but fhame!
Let us die inftant once more back again!
The man that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand
Like a bafe pander hold the chamber-door,
Whilft by a flave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.

Con, Dilorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!

Let

Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

Orl. We are enow yet living in the field To fmother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon.

Bour. The devil take order now, I'll to the throng ; Let life be short, elfe fhame will be too long.

SCENE

XI.

[Exeunt

Alarum. Enter the King and bis Train, with Prifoners, K. Henry. Well have we done, thrice valiant country-men, But all's not done, the French yet keep the field.

Exe. The Duke of York commends him to your Majefty.
K. Henry. Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour
I faw him down; thrice up again, and fighting:
From helmet to the fpur all bleeding o'er.

Exe. In which array, brave foldier! doth he lye
Larding the plain; and by his bloody fide
(Yoak-fellow to his honour-owing wounds).
The noble Earl of Suffolk alfo lyes.

Suffolk first dy'd, and York all haggled over
Comes to him where in gore he lay infteep'd,
And takes him by the beard, kiffes the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face,
And cries aloud, Tarry, my cousin Suffolk,
My foul fhall thine keep company to beav'n:
Tarry, fweet foul, for mine, then fly a-breaft;
As in this glorious and well-fougbten field
We kept together in our chivalry.

Upon thefe words I came and cheer'd him up;
He fmil'd me in the face, gave me his hand,
And with a feeble gripe fays, Dear my Lord,
Commend my fervice to my Sovereign;
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, and kift his lips,
And fo efpous'd to death, with blood he feal'd
A teftament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd

Those waters from me, which I would have ftop'd,
But I had not fo much of man in me,

But all my mother came into mine eyes

And gave me up to tears.

K. Henry,

A!

K. Henry. I blame you not;

For hearing this I muft perforce compound

With mistful eyes, or they will iffue too.

But hark, what new alarum is this fame?

The French have re-inforc'd their scatter'd men:
Then every foldier kill his prifoners.

Give the word through.

SCENE XII.

[Alarum.

[Exeunt:

Alarms continued; after which enter Fluellen and Gower. Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage! 'tis exprefly against the law of arms; 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be defired in your confcience now, is it not?

Gow. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rafcals that run away from the battel ha' done this flaughter: befides, they have burn'd or carried away all that was in the King's tent; wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd ev'ry foldier to cut his prifoner's throat. O tis a gallant King!

Flu. I, he was porn as Monmouth, captain Gower; what call you the town's name where Alexander the pig was porn? Gov. Alexander the Great.

Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? the pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, fave the phrase is a little variations. Gow. I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon, his father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

Flu. I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn: I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the orld, I warrant that you fall find in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the fituations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon, there is alfo a river at Monmouth it is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but it is all one, tis as like as my fingers to my fingers, and there is Salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things. Alexander, Got knows and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his indignations and alfo being a little intoxicates in his

prains,

prains, did in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his peft friend Clytus.

Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he never kill'd any of his friends.

Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I Speak but in figures and comparisons of it; as Alexander kill'd his friend Clytus being in his ales and his cups; fo alfo Harry Monmouth being in his right wits and his good judgments, turn'd away the fat Knight with the great pellydoublet; he was full of jefts and gypes, and knaveries, and mocks: I have forgot his name.

Gow. Sir John Falstaff.

Flu. That is he: I tell you there is goot men porn at Monmouth.

Gow. Here comes his Majesty.

SCENE XIII.

Alarum. Enter King Henry with Bourbon and others prifoners, Lords and Attendants.

Flourish.
K. Henry. I was not angry fince I came to France,
Until this inftant. Take a trumpet, herald,
Ride thou unto the horfemen on yon hill:

If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
Or void the field; they do offend our fight.
If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
And make them fker away, as swift as ftones
Enforced from the old Affyrian flings:

Befides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,
And not a man of them that we shall take
Shall tafte our mercy. Go and tell them fo.

Enter Mountjoy.

Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, my Liege.
Glou. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be.
K. Henry. How now, what mean'ft thou, herald ?
know'st thou not,

That I have fin'd thefe bones of mine for ranfom?
Com'st thou again for ransom?

Mount. No, great King:

I come to thee for charitable licence

That we may wander o'er this bloody field,

To

To book our dead, and then to bury them:
To fort our Nobles from our common men ;
For many of our Princes (woe the while!)
Lye drown'd and foak'd in mercenary blood:
So do our vulgar drench their peafant limbs
In blood of Princes, while their wounded steeds
Fret fet-lock deep in gore, and with wild rage
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead mafters,
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great King,
To view the field in fafety, and difpofe

Of their dead bodies.

K. Henry. I tell thee truly, herald, I know not if the day be ours or no ; For yet a many of your horfemen peer And gallop o'er the field.

Mount. The day is yours.

K. Henry. Praifed be God and not our strength for it! What is this caftle call'd that ftands hard by? Mount. They call it Agincourt.

K. Henry. Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Crifpin Crifpianus.

Flu. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't pleafe your Majefty, and your great uncle Edward the plack Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a moft prave pattle here in France.

K. Henry. They did, Fluellen.

Flu. Your Majefty fays very true: if your Majefties is remember'd of it, the Welshmen did good fervice in a gara den where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps, which your Majefty knows to this hour is an ho nourable padge of the fervice; and I do believe your Ma jefty takes no fcorn to wear the leek upon St. Tavie's day. K. Henry. I wear it for a memorable honour:

For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.

Flu. All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majefty's Weifh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that: Got plefs and preferve it as long as it pleases his Grace and his Majefty too!

K. Henry. Thanks, good my countryman.

Flu. By Chefbu, I am your Majefty's countryman, I care VOL. V.

X

not